Haunted
by lilxsuj
Summary: I discovered my bedroom is haunted by the ghost of a feudal era hottie. There is this other guy, a live one. In the same way I'm after Inuyasha, he's after me. So you could say I'm haunted. I just never thought it would be by someone who isn't dead.
1. Prologue

Prologue.

Disclaimer: I give all credit to the creator of Inuyasha and Meg Cabot, the author of _Haunted_in which this fic is based upon. Like literally. Because I think, everyone should read this book. Why not make it something people like to hear. A Sesshomaru/ Kagome romance! only I am going to change the ending to it ends up Sess/Kag

_Fog. That's all I can see. Just fog, the kind that pours in from the bay every morning, seeping onto the floor in cold, ropy tendrils..._

_Only here there are no windows, or even a floor. I am in a corridor lined with doors. There is no ceiling overhead, just coldly winking stars in an inky-black sky. The long hall made up of closed doors seems to stretch out forever in all directions. _

_And now I'm running. I'm running down the corridor, the fog seeming to cling to my legs as I go, the closed doors on either side of me a blur. There's no point, I know, in opening any of these doors. There's nothing behind them that can help me. I've got to get out of this hallway, only I can't, because it just keeps getting longer and longer, stretching out into the darkness, still blanketed in that thick white fog..._

_And then suddenly, I'm not alone in that fog. Inuyasha is there with me, holding my hand. I don't know if it's the warmth of his fingers or the kindness of his smile that banishes my fear, but suddenly, I am convinced that everything is going to be all right. _

_At least until it becomes clear that Inuyasha doesn't know he way out any more than I do. And now even the fact that my hand is in his can't squelch the feeling of panic bubbling inside me._

_But wait. Someone is coming toward us, a tall figure striding through the fog. My frantically beating heart—the only sound I can hear in this dead place, with the exception of my own breathing—slows somewhat. Help. Help at last._

_Except that when the fog parts and I recognize the face of the person ahead of us, my heart starts pounding more loudly than ever. Because I know he won't help us. I know he won't do a thing. _

_Except laugh._

_And then I'm alone again, only this time, the floor beneath me has dropped away. The doors disappear, and I am teetering on the brink of a chasm so deep, I cannot see the ground below. The fog swirls around me, spilling into the chasm and seeming intent on taking me with it. I am waving my arms to keep from falling, grabbing frantically for something, anything, to hold on to._

_Only there's nothing to grab. A second later, an unseen hand gives a single push. _

_And I fall._

**Preview of Ch. 1**

"Well, well, well," said a distinctly masculine voice from behind me. "If it isn't Higurashi Kagome." Look. I won't lie to you. When a cute guy talks to me--and you could tell from this guy's voice that he was easy on the eyes; it was in the self-confidence of those _well, well, wells,_****the caressing way he said my name--I pay attention. I can't help it. I'm a sixteen-year-old girl, after all. It wasn't until I'd given the old raven shine a flip that I turned around and saw that the cutie who'd said my name was someone I'm not too fond of. In fact, you might say i have a reason to be scared to death of him. What was he doing here? _What was he doing here?_


	2. You Again

Disclaimer: I give all credit to the creator of Inuyasha and Meg Cabot, the author of _Haunted_in which this fic is based upon. Like literally. Because I think, everyone should read this book. Why not make it something people like to hear. A Sesshomaru/ Kagome romance! only I am going to change the ending to it ends up Sess/Kag

** Previously on Haunted... **

_The fog swirls around me, spilling into the chasm and seeming intent on taking me with it. I am waving my arms to keep from falling, grabbing frantically for something, anything, to hold on to._

_Only there's nothing to grab. A second later, an unseen hand gives a single push. _

_And I fall._

**_ You again._**

**_Chapter 1_**

"Well, well, well," said a distinctly masculine voice from behind me. "If it isn't Higurashi, Kagome."

Look, I won't lie to you. When a cute guy talks to me—and you can tell from this guy's voice that he was easy on the eyes; it was in the self-confidence of those _well, well, wells_ , the caressing way he said my name—I pay attention. I can't help it. I'm a sixteen-year-old girl, after all. My life can't revolve entirely around Lilly Pulitzer's latest tankini print and whatever new innovations Bobbi Brown has made in the world of stay-put lip liner.

So I'll admit that, even though I have a boyfriend—even if _boyfriend_ ****is a little optimistic a term fro him—as I turned around to see the hottie who was addressing me, I gave my hair a little bit of a toss. Why shouldn't I? I mean, considering all the product I'd layered into it that morning, in honor of the first day of my junior year—not to mention the marine fog that regularly turns my head into a frizzy mess—my coiffure was looking exceptionally fine.

It wasn't until I'd given the old raven shine a flip that I turned around and saw that the cutie who'd said my name was someone I'm not too fond of.

In fact, you might say i have a reason to be scared to death of him.

I guess he could read the fear in my eyes—carefully done up that morning with a brand-new combination of eye shadows called Mocha Mist—because the grin that broke out across his good-looking face was slightly crooked at one end.

"Kags," he said in a chiding tone. Even the fog couldn't dull the shiny glimmer in his silvery flowing hair. His teeth were dazzlingly white against his tennis tan. a/n could you imagine him with that kind of tan...sigh so dreamy...so who is this guy?! You'll find out...soon. "Here I am, nervous about being the new kid at school, and you don't even have a hello for me? What kind of way is that to treat an old pal?"

I continued to stare at him, perfectly incapable of speech. You can't talk, of course, when your mouth has gone as dry as...well, as the adobe brick building we were standing in front of. What was he doing here? _What was he doing here?_

The thing of it was, I couldn't follow my first impulse and run screaming from him. People tend to talk when they see impeccably garbed girls such as me run screaming from seventeen-year old studlies. I had managed to keep my unusual talent from my classmates for this long, I wasn't about to blow it now, even if I was—and believe me, I _was_ —scared to death.

But if I couldn't run away screaming, I could certainly move huffily past him without a word, hoping he would not recognize the huffiness for what it really was—sheer terror.

I don't know whether or not he sensed my fear. But he sure didn't like my pulling a prima donna on him. His hand flew out as I attempted to sweep past him, and the next thing I knew, his fingers were wrapped around my upper arm in a viselike grip.

I could, of course, have hauled off and slugged him. I hadn't been named Girl Most Likely to Dismember Someone back at my old school in Brooklyn for nothing, you know.

But I'd wanted to start this year off right—in Mocha Mist and my new black Club Monaco capris (coupled with a pink silk sweater set I'd snagged for a song at the Benetton outlet up in Pacific Grove)—not in a fight. And what would my friends and schoolmates think—and, since they were milling all around us, tossing off the occasional, "Hi, Kagome," and complimenting me on my ever-so-spiffy ensemble, they were bound to notice—if I began freakishly to pummel the new guy?

And then there was the unavoidable fact that I was pretty convinced that, if I took a whack at him, he might try to whack me back.

Somehow I managed to find my voice. I only hoped he didn't notice how much I was it was shaking. "Let go of my arm," I said.

"Kags," he said. He was still smiling, but now he looked and sounded slyly knowing. "What's the matter? You don't look very happy to see me."

"Still not letting go of my arm," I reminded him. I could feel the chill from his fingers—he seemed to be completely cold-blooded in addition to being preternaturally strong—through my silk sleeve.

He dropped his hand.

"Look," he said. "I really am sorry. About the way things went down the last time you and I met, I mean it."

The last time he and I met. Instantly I was transported in my mind's eye back to that long corridor—the one I had seen so often in my dreams. Lined with doors on either side—doors that opened into who-knew-what—it had been like a hallway in a hotel or an office building... only this hallway hadn't existed in any hotel or office building known to man. It hadn't even existed in our current dimension.

And Sesshomaru had stood there, knowing Inuyasha and I had no idea how to find our way out of it, and laughed. Just laughed, like it was this big colossal joke that if I didn't return to my own universe soon, I'd die, while Inuyasha would have been trapped in that hallway forever. I could still hear Sesshomaru's laughter ringing in my ears. He had kept on laughing...right up until the moment Inuyasha had slammed a fist into his face.

I could hardly believe any of this was happening. Here it was, a perfectly normal September morning in Tokyo, Japan—which meant, of course, a think layer of mist hung over everything but would soon burn off to reveal cloudless blue skies and a golden sun—and I was standing there in the breezeway of Shikon-no-Tama Academy, face-to-face with the person who'd been haunting my nightmares for weeks.

Only this wasn't a nightmare. I was awake. I knew I was awake, because I would never have dreamed of my friends Sango and Miroku sauntering by while I was confronting this monster from my past, and going, "Hey Kags," like it was...well, like it was simply the first day back at school after summer vacation.

"You mean the part where you tried to kill me?" I croaked, when Sango and Miroku were out of earshot. This time, I know he heard my voice shake. I know because he looked perturbed—though maybe it was because of the accusation. In any case, he reached up and dragged one of those largish tanned hands through his short hair. a/n SHORT! Yes! Sorry but I have this dream hair cut. The new fob Japanese cut. Where it like flows down to the neck. Yeah short! Sesshomaru would look hot in it.

"I never tried to kill you, Kags," he said, sounding a little hurt.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. My heart was in my throat, but I laughed anyway. "Oh," I said. "Right."

"I mean it, Kags," he said. "It wasn't like that. I'm just...I'm just not very good at losing, you see."

I stared at him. No matter what he told himself, he i _had_ /i tried to kill me. But worse, he'd done his best to eliminate Inuyasha, in a completely underhanded manner. And now he was trying to pass the whole thing off as bad sportsmanship?

"I don't get it," I said, shaking my head. "What did you lose? You didn't lose anything."

"Didn't I, Kags?" His gaze bore into mine. His voice was the one I'd been hearing over and over in my dreams—laughing at me as I struggled to find my way out of a dark, mist-filled hallway at either end of which was a precipice dropping off into a black void of utter nothingness, over which, right before I woke up, I teetered dangerously. It was a voice filled with hidden meaning...

Only I had no idea what that meaning could be, or what he was implying. All I knew was that this guy terrified me.

"Kags," he said with a smile. Smiling—and probably even scowling, too—he looked like a Calvin Klein underwear model. And not just his face, either. I had, after all, seen him in a pair of swim trunks.

"Look, don't be this way," he said. "It's a new school year. Can't we make a new start?"

"No," I said, glad that my voice didn't shake this time. "We can't. In fact, you—you'd better stay away from me."

He seemed to find this deeply amusing. "Or what?" he asked, with another one of those smiles that revealed all of his white, even teeth—a politician's smile, I realized.

"Or you'll regret it," I said, the tremor back in my voice.

"Oh," he said, his golden eyes widening in mock terror. "You'll sick your boyfriend on me?"

It wasn't something I'd have joked around about, if I were him. Inuyasha could—and probably would, if he found out the guy was back—kill him. Except that I wasn't exactly Inuyasha's girlfriend, so it wasn't really his job to protect me from creeps like the one in front of me.

He must have figured out from my expression that all was not copacetic in Kagome-and-Inuyasha-land, since he laughed and said, "So that's how it is. Well, I never really thought Inuyasha was your type, you know. You need someone a little less—"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence because at that moment, Sango, who'd been following Miroku in the direction of his locker—even though we'd solemnly sworn to each other the night before over the phone that we were not going to start off the new school year chasing boys—came back toward us, her gaze on the guy standing so close to me.

"Kags," she said politely. Unlike me, Sango had spent her summer working in the non-profit sector, and so had not had a lot of money to blow on a back-to-school wardrobe and makeover. Not that Sango would ever spend her money on anything so frivolous as makeup. Which was a good thing, since, being sensitive skinned, she had to special-order all her makeup anyway, and couldn't just stroll on up to the M.A.C. counter and plunk her money down the way anybody else could.

"Who's you friend?" she wanted to know.

I was not about to stand there and make introductions. In fact, I was seriously thinking of heading to the administrative office and asking just what they were thinking, admitting a guy like this into what I had once considered a passably good school.

But he thrust one of those cool, strong hands at Sango and said with the grin that I had once found disarming but now chilled me to the bone, "Hi. I'm Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru Takeda. Nice to met you."

Sesshomaru Takeda. Not really the kind of name to strike terror into the heart of a young girl, huh? I mean, it sounded innocuous enough. _Hi, I'm Sesshomaru Takeda._ There was nothing in that statement that could have alerted Sango to the truth: Sesshomaru Takeda was sick, manipulative, and had icicles where his heart should have been.

No, Sango had no clue. Because I hadn't told her, of course. I hadn't told anyone.

The more fool I.

If Sango found his fingers a little too cold for her liking, she didn't let on.

"Nagami, Sango," she said, as she pumped his hand in her typically businesslike manner. "You must be new here, because I've never seen you around before."

Sesshomaru blinked, bringing attention to his eyelashes, which were really long, for a guy's. They looked almost heavy on his eyelids, like they'd be an effort to lift. My stepbrother Suikotsu has sort of the same thing going, only on him, it just makes him look drowsy. On Sesshomaru, it had more of a sexy rock-star effect. I glanced worriedly at Sango. She was one of the most sensible people I had ever met, but are any of us really immune to the sexy rock-star type?

"My first day," Sesshomaru said with another one of those grins. "Lucky for me, I already happen to be acquainted with Ms. Higurashi here."

"How fortuitous," Sango, who, as editor of the school paper, liked big words, said, her thin-black eyebrows raised slightly. "Did you used to go to Kags' old school?"

"No," I said quickly. "He didn't. Look, we better get to homeroom, or we're going to get into trouble..."

But Sesshomaru wasn't worried about getting into trouble. Probably because he was used to causing it.

"Kags and I had a thing this past summer," he informed Sango, who chocolate eyes widened behind her bangs at this information.

"A _thing_?" she echoed.

"There was no thing," I hastened to assure her.

"Believe me. No thing at all."

Sango's eyes go even wider. It was clear she didn't believe me. Well, why should she? I was her best friend, it was true. But had I ever once been completely honest wit her? No. And she clearly knew it.

"Oh, so you guys broke up?" she asked pointedly.

"No, we didn't break up," Sesshomaru said, with another one of those secretive, knowing smiles.

Because we were never going out, I wanted to shriek. You think I'd ever go out with _him_? He's not what you think, Sango. He _looks_ human, but underneath that studly façade, he's a...a...

Well, I didn't know what Sesshomaru was, exactly.

But then, what did that make me? Sesshomaru and I had far more in common that I was comfortable admitting, even to myself.

Even if I'd had the guts to say something along those lines in front of him, I didn't get the chance because suddenly a stern, "Miss Higurashi! Miss Nagami! Haven't you ladies got a class you should be getting to?" rang out.

Kaede—whose three-month absence from my life had not rendered her any less intimidating, with her scrunched up face and even worse her loud voice accompanying her—came barreling down upon us, the wide white sleeves of her garbs trailing behind her like wings.

"Get going," she tut-tutted us, waving her hands in the direction of our lockers, built into the adobe walls all along the building's beautifully manicured inner courtyard. "You'll be late to first period."

We got going...but unfortunately Sesshomaru followed directly behind us.

"Kags and I go way back," he was saying to Sango, as we moved along the porticoed hallway toward my locker. "We met at the Pebble Beach Hotel and Golf Resort."

I could only stare at him as I fumbled with the combination to my locker. I couldn't believe this was happening. I really couldn't. What was Sesshomaru doing here? What was Sesshomaru doing here enrolling in my school, making my world—from which I'd thought I'd rid him forever—a real-life nightmare?

I didn't want to know. Whatever his motives for coming back, I didn't want to know. I just wanted to get away from him, get to class, anywhere, anywhere at all...

...so long as it was away from him.

"Well," I said, slamming my locker door closed. I hardly knew what I was doing. I had reaches in and blindly grabbed the first books my fingers touched. "Gotta go. Homeroom calls."

He looked down at the books in my arms, the ones I was holding almost as a shield, as if they would protect me from whatever it was—and I was sure there was something—he had in store for me. For us.

"You won't find them in there," Sesshomaru said with a cryptic nod at the textbooks bulging from my arms.

I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't _want_ to know. All I knew was that I wanted out of there, and I wanted out of there fast. Sango still stood beside me, looking bewilderedly from my face to Sesshomaru's. Any second, I knew, she was going to begin to ask questions, questions I didn't dare answer...

Still, even though I didn't want to, I heard myself asking, as if the words were being torn involuntarily from my lips, "I won't find what in here?"

"The answers you're looking for." Sesshomaru's golden-eyed gaze was intense. "Why you, of all people, were chosen. And what, exactly you are."

This time, I didn't have to ask what he meant. I knew. I knew as surely as if he'd said the words out loud. He was talking about the gift we shared, he and I, the one over which he seemed to have so much better control—and of which he seemed to have such superior knowledge—than I did.

While Sango stood there, staring at the two fo us as if we were speaking a foreign language, Sesshomaru when on smoothly, "When you're ready to hear the truth about what you are, you'll know where to find me. Because I'll be right here."

And then he walked away, seemingly unaware of all the feminine sighs he drew from my classmates as he moved with panther-like grace down the breezeway.

Her chocolate eyes still wide behind her bangs, Sango looked up at me wonderingly.

"What," she wanted to know, "was that guy talking about? And who on earth is _Inuyasha_?"

**Preview of Ch.2 **

I couldn't tell her, of course. I couldn't tell anyone about Inuyasha, because frankly, who'd have believed it? I knew only one person—one living person, anyway—who knew the whole truth about people like Sesshomaru and me, and that was only because he was one of us. "Sesshomaru Takeda comes off as a far better student than you did when you first applied to this school." "Perhaps Sesshomaru is looking for guidance."


	3. Why Me

Disclaimer: I give all credit to the creator of Inuyasha and Meg Cabot, the author of _Haunted_in which this fic is based upon. Like literally. Because I think, everyone should read this book. Why not make it something people like to hear. A Sesshomaru/ Kagome romance! only I am going to change the ending to it ends up Sess/Kag

**Previously on Haunted... **

And then he walked away, seemingly unaware of all the feminine sighs he drew from my classmates as he moved with panther-like grace down the breezeway.

Her chocolate eyes still wide behind her bangs, Sango looked up at me wonderingly.

"What," she wanted to know, "was that guy talking about? And who on earth is _Inuyasha_?"

** Chapter 2**

**Why Me! **

I couldn't tell her, of course, I couldn't tell anyone about Inuyasha, because frankly, who'd have believed it? I knew only one person—one living person, anyway—who knew the whole truth about people like Sesshomaru and me, and that was only because he was one of us. As I sat in front of his mahogany desk a little while later, I couldn't help letting out a groan.

"How could this have happened?" I asked.

Monk Toutousai, the principal of the Shikon-no-Tama Academy, sat behind his enormous desk, looking patient. It was an expression that became the good monk, who, rumor had it, grew better looking with every passing year. At nearly sixty-five, he was a white-haired, spectacled Adonis.

He was also very contrite.

"Kagome, I'm sorry. I've been so busy with preparations for the new school year—not to mention the Autumn festival this coming weekend—I never glanced at the admission rosters." He shook his neatly trimmed white head. "I am so, so sorry."

I grimaced. He was sorry. _He was sorry_? What about _me_? _He _wasn't the one who had to be in the same classes with Sesshomaru Takeda. Two classes, as a matter of fact: homeroom and U.S. history. Two whole hours a day I was going to have to sit there and look at the guy who'd tried to off my boyfriend and leave me for dead. And that wasn't even counting morning assembly and lunch. That was another hour, right there!

"Although I don't honestly know what I could have done," Toutousai said, rifling through Sesshomaru's file, "to prevent his being admitted. His test scores, grades, teacher evaluations...everything is exemplary. I am sorry to say that on paper, Sesshomaru Takeda comes off as a far better student than you did when you first applied to this school."

"You can't tell anything," I pointed out, "about a person's moral fiber from a bunch of test scores." I am a little defensive about this topic, on account of my own test scores having been mediocre enough to have cause Shikon-no-Tama Academy to balk at accepting my application eight months ago when my mother announced we were moving to Tokyo so that she could marry Takashi Shichinin, the man of her dreams, and now my stepfather.

"No," Toutousai said, tiredly removing his glasses and cleaning them on the hem of his long black robe. There were, I noticed, purple shadows beneath his eyes. "No, you cannot," he agreed with a deep sigh, placing his wire rims back over the bridge of his perfectly aquiline nose. "Kagome, are you really so certain this boy's motives are less than noble? Perhaps Sesshomaru is looking for guidance. It's possible, that with the right influence, he might be made to see the error of his ways...

"Yeah, Toutousai," I said sarcastically. "And maybe this year I'll get elected Homecoming Queen."

Toutousai looked disapproving. Unlike me, Toutousai tended always to think the best of people, at least until their subsequent behavior proved his assumption in their inherent goodness to be wrong. You would think that in the case of Sesshomaru Takeda, he'd have already seen enough to form a solid basis for judgment on that guy's behalf, but apparently not.

"I am going to assume," Toutousai said, "until we've seen something to prove otherwise, that Sesshomaru is here to at Shikon-no-Tama Academy because he wants to learn. Not just the normal eleventh grade curriculum, either, Kagome, but what you and I might have to teach him as well. Let us hope that Sesshomaru regrets his past actions and truly wishes to make amends. I believe that Sesshomaru is here to make a fresh start rather like you did last year; if you recall. And it is our duty, as charitable human beings, to help him do just that. Until we learn otherwise, I believe we should give Sesshomaru the benefit of the doubt."

I thought this was the worst plan I had ever heard in my life. But the truth was, I didn't have any evidence that Sesshomaru was, in fact here to cause trouble. Not yet, anyway.

"Now," Toutousai said, closing Sesshomaru's file and leaning back in his chair, "I haven't seen you in a few weeks. How are you, Kagome? And how's Inuyasha?"

I felt my face heat up. Things were at a sorry pass when the mere mention of Inuyasha's name could cause me to blush, but there it was.

"Um," I said, hoping Toutousai wouldn't notice my flaming cheeks. "Fine."

"Good," Toutousai said, pushing his glasses up on his nose and looking over at his bookshelf in a distracted manner. "There was a book he mentioned he wanted to borrow—Oh, yes, here it is." Toutousai placed a giant, leather-bound book—it had to have weighed ten pounds at least—in my arms. "_Critical Theory Since Plato,"_ he said with a smile. "Inuyasha ought to like that."

I didn't doubt it. Inuyasha liked some of the most boring books known to man. Possibly this was why he wasn't responding to me. I mean, not the way I wanted him to. Because I was not boring enough.

"Very good," Toutousai said distractedly. You could tell he had a lot of his mind. Visits from the academy owner always threw him into a tizzy, and this one, for the feast of the Autumn festival, whom several organizations had been trying unsuccessfully to have made a booth, was going to be a particularly huge pain in the butt, from what I could see.

"Let's just keep an eye on our young friend Mr. Takeda," Toutousai went on, "and see how things go. He might very well settle down, Kagome, in a structure environment like the one we offer here at the academy."

I sniffed. I couldn't help it. Toutousai really had no idea what he was up against.

"And if he doesn't" I asked.

"Well," Toutousai said. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now run along. You don't want to waste the whole of your lunch break in here with me."

Reluctantly, I left the principal's office, carrying the dusty old tome he'd given me. the morning fog had dispersed, as it always did around eleven, and now the sky overhead was a brilliant blue. In the courtyard, hummingbirds busily worked over the hibiscus. The fountain, surrounded by a half-dozen tourists in Bermuda shorts—the shrine, beside being a school, was a historic landmark, and sported an old well and even a gift shop that were must-sees on any touring bus's schedule—burbled noisily. It was another gorgeous day in Tokyo.

So why did I feel so wretched?

I tried to tell myself that I was overreacting. That Toutousai was right—we didn't know what Sesshomaru's motives in coming to Tokyo were. Perhaps he really had turned over a new leaf.

So why could I not get that image—the one from my nightmares—out of my head? The long dark hallway and me running through it, looking desperately for a way out, and finding only fog. It was a dream I had nearly once a night, and from which I never failed to wake in a sweat.

Truthfully, I didn't know which was scarier: my nightmare or what was happening now while I was awake. What was Sesshomaru doing here? Even more perplexing, how was it that Sesshomaru seemed to know so much about the talent he and I shared? There's no newsletter. There are no conferences or seminars. When you put the word _mediator_ into any search engine online, all you get is stuff about lawyers and family counselors. I am as clueless now, practically, as I'd been back when I was little and known only that I was...well, different from the other kids in my neighborhood.

But Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru seemed to think he had some kinds of answers.

What could he know about it, though? Even Toutousai didn't claim to know exactly what we mediators—for lack of a better term—were, and where we'd come from, and just what, exactly, were the extent of our talents...and he was older than both of us combined! Sure, we can see and speak to—and even kiss and punch—the dead...or rather, with the spirits of those who had died leaving things untidy, something I'd found out at the age of six, when my dad, who'd passed away from a sudden heart attack, came back for a little post-funeral chat.

But was that it? I mean, was that all mediators were capable of? Not according to Sesshomaru.

Despite Toutousai's assurance that Sesshomaru likely meant well, I could not be so sure. People like Sesshomaru did not do anything without good reason. So what was he doing back in Tokyo? Could it be merely that, now that he'd discovered Toutousai and me, he wished to continue the relationship out of some kind of longing to be with his own kind?

It was possible. Of course, it's equally possible that Inuyasha really does love me and is just pretending he doesn't, since a romantic relationship between the two of us really wouldn't be all that kosher....

Yeah. And maybe I really _will_ get that Homecoming Queen nomination I've been longing for....

I was still trying not to think about his at lunch—the Sesshomaru thing, not the Homecoming Queen thing—when, sandwiched on an outdoor bench between Miroku and Sango, I cracked the pull tab on a can of diet soda and then nearly choked on my first swallow after Sango went, "So, spill. Who's this Inuyasha guy anyway? Answer please this time."

Soda went everywhere, mostly out of my nose. Some of it got on my Benetton sweater set.

Sango was completely unsympathetic. "It's diet," she said. "It wont' stain. So how come we haven't met him?"

"Yeah," Miroku said, getting over his initial mirth at seeing soda coming out of my nostrils. "And how come this Sesshomaru guy knows him, and we don't?"

Dabbing myself with a napkin, I glanced in Sesshomaru's direction. He was sitting on a bench not too far away surrounded by Kikyou Hanajima and the other popular people in our class, all of whom were laughing uproariously at some story he'd just told them.

"Inuyasha's just a guy," I said, because I had a feeling I wasn't going to be able to get away with brushing their questions off. Not this time.

"Just a guy," Sango repeated. "Just a guy you are apparently going out with, according to this Sesshomaru."

"Well," I said uncomfortably. "Yeah. I guess I am. Sort of. I mean...it's complicated."

Complicated? My relationship with Inuyasha made _Critical Theory Since Plato_ look like _The Poky Little Puppy._

"So," Sango said, crossing her legs and nibbling contentedly from a bag of baby carrots in her lap. "Tell. Where'd you two meet?"

I could not believe I was actually sitting there, discussing Inuyasha with my friends. My friends whom I'd worked so hard to keep in the dark about him.

"He, um, lives in my neighborhood," I said. No point in telling them the absolute truth.

"He go to RLS?" Miroku wanted to know, referring to Robert Louis Stevenson High and reaching over me to grab a carrot from the bag in Sango's lap.

"Um." I said. "Not exactly."

"Don't tell me he goes to Tokyo High." Sango's eyes widened.

"He's not in high school anymore," I said, since I knew that, given Sango's nature, she'd never rest until she knew all." He, um, graduated already."

"Whoa," Sango said. "An older man. Well, no wonder you're keeping him a secret. So, what is he, in college?"

"Not really," I said. "He's, uh, taking some time off. To kind of...find himself."

"Hmph." Miroku leaned back against the bench and closed his yes, letting the strong midday sun caress his face. "A slacker. You can do better, Kags. What you need is a guy with a good solid work ethic. A guy like...Hey, I know. Me!"

Sango, who had had her eye on Miroku for as long as I'd known them both, ignored him.

"How long have you guys been going out?" she wanted to know.

"I don't know," I said, feeling pretty miserable now. "It's all sort of new. I mean, I've known him for a while, but the whole dating angle of it...that's new. And it isn't really...Well, I don't really like to talk about it."

"Talk about what?" A shadow loomed over our bench. Squinting, I looked up and saw my younger stepbrother, Souta, standing there, his bleached hair glowing like a halo in the hot sun.

"Nothing," I said, quickly.

Out of everyone in my family—and yes, I did think of the Shichinins, my stepdad and his sons, as part of my family now, the little family that used to be made up of just my mom and me after my dad died—thirteen-year-old Souta was the one closest to knowing the truth about me. That I wasn't the merely somewhat discontented teenaged girl I pretended to be, that is.

What's more, Souta knew about Inuyasha. Knew, and yet didn't know. Because while he, like everyone in the house, had noticed my sudden mood swings and mysterious absence from the family room every night, he could not even begin to imagine what was behind it all.

Now he stood in front of our bench—which was pretty daring, since the upperclassmen did not tend to take kindly to eighth-graders like Souta coming over to what they considered their side of the assembly yard—trying to look like he belonged there, which considering his hundred-pound frame, braces, and sticky-out ears, could not have been further form the truth.

"Did you see this?" he asked now, shoving a piece of paper beneath my nose.

I took the paper from him. It turned out to be a flyer advertising a hot tub party at 99 Pine Crest Road on this coming Friday night. Guests were invited to bring a swimsuit if they wanted to have some "hot 'n' frothy fun." Or if they chose to forsake a suit, that was all right, particularly if they happened to be of the female persuasion.

There was a crude drawing on the flyer of a tipsy looking girl with large breast downing a can of beer.

"No, you can't go," I said, handing the flyer back to Souta with a snort. "You're too young. And somebody ought to show this to your class adviser. Eighth graders shouldn't be having parties like this."

Sango, who'd taken the flyer from Souta's hands, went, "Um, Kags."

"Seriously," I continued. "And I'm surprised at you, Souta. I thought you were smarter than that. Nothing good ever comes from parties like that. Sure, some people will have fun. But ten to one somebody will end up having to get his stomach pumped or drown or crack his head open or something. It's always fun until someone gets hurt."

"Kags." Sango held up the flyer up in front of my face just inches from my nose. "Ninety-nine Pine Crest Road. That's your house, isn't it?"

I snatched the flyer away from her with a gasp. "Souta! What can you be thinking?"

"It wasn't me," Souta cried, his already wobbly voice going up another two or three octaves. "Somebody showed it to me in social studies. Bankotsu's passing them around. Some of the seventh graders even got some, even—"

I narrowed my eyes in my stepbrother Bankotsu's direction. He was leaning against the basketball pole, trying to look cool, which was pretty hard for a guy whose cerebral cortex was coated, as far as I could tell with WD-40.

"Excuse me," I said, standing up. "I have to go commit a murder." Then I stalked across the basketball court, the bright orange flyer in my hand.

Bankotsu saw me coming. I noted the look of naked panic that flitted across his features as his gaze fell upon what I had in my hand. He straightened up and tried to run, but I was too quick for him. I cornered him by the drinking fountain and held the flyer up so that he could see it.

"Do you really think," I asked, calmly, "that Mom and Takashi are going to allow you to have this...this...whatever it is?"

The panic on Bankotsu's face had turned to defiance. He stuck out his chin and said, "Yeah, well, what they don't know isn't going to hurt them."

"Bankotsu," I said. Sometimes I felt sorry for him. I really did. He was just such a dufus. "Don't' you think they're going to notice when they look out their bedroom window and see a bunch of naked girls in their new hot tub?"

"No," Bankotsu said. "Cause they aren't going to be around Friday night. Dad's got that guest lecture thing up in Kyoto, and your mom's going with him, remember?"

No, I didn't remember. In fact, I wondered if I had ever even been told. I had been spending a lot of time up in my room lately, it was true, but so much that I'd missed something as important as our parents going away for an entire night? I didn't think so....

"And you better not tell them," Bankotsu said with an unexpected burst of venom, "or you'll be sorry."

I looked at him like he was nuts. "_I'll be sorry?"_ I said with a laugh. "Um, excuse me, Bankotsu, but if your dad finds out about this party you're planning, _you're_ the one who's going to be grounded for the rest of your life, not me."

"Nuh-uh," Bankotsu said. The look of defiance had been replaced by an even less attractive one of something that was almost venal. "Cause if you even think about saying anything, I'll tell them about the guy you've been sneaking into your room every night."

**reviews**

Thanks to...

-Yura of the hair

-Smoke Dragon

-Dah88

-Tsuki Yume

-Akumeriver

-Inuko

-Memory Drift

-MakiOhguro,AymeHamasakiFan

**Preview**

none.


End file.
